Woe betide the angry film critic. On Wednesday, they were out in full force after actor Jesse Eisenberg poked fun at their profession in short squib in the New Yorker, in which he assumed the narrative role of a blogger going to review a movie.
“These are the main problems with Paintings of Cole,” his story concludes, driving a shiv to the critic’s gut. “It was inconveniently shown on the Upper West Side, written by a guy I envy, screened by a cute intern whose name was too confusing to remember, based on an idea that I poorly executed in grad school, and praised by the Times, which rejected me.”
Round up your loved ones and cue the talons. With one broad stroke Eisenberg stereotyped every single movie writer as a smarmy, probably unwashed pile of flesh and bones, painting the profession itself as little more than a collection of pissy, thin-skinned bums mumbling to themselves in dark theaters.
Suffice to say, many well-regarded film writers were miffed. That the New Yorker, your favourite writer’s favourite magazine, that place of caviar dreams and monocles, would dare print such trash – even by an Academy award-nominated actor – was nothing short of tragic.
Oh, the sweet irony of critics being pissed at being criticised. Perhaps they already had their guard up, as this wasn’t the first time the Social Network star has messed with a film journalist: Eisenberg publically humiliated Fusion’s Romina Puga in an interview to promote his film Now You See Me.
Actors taking shots at people who don’t like their work is nothing new. But in this case, there is some truth to Eisenberg’s barbs. Since the (deep breath) Dawn of Online Journalism, the world of film writing has greatly expanded. Now at screenings and junkets, the critics whose witty, elegant work is informed by a lifetime’s viewing and writing, sit cheek by jowl with garden-variety bottom feeders who seem to be mainly there to leech off the free food. Though really, it’s a co-dependent leeching, as movie studios will typically get a sexy and spectacular all-capped positive film quote in return for warm white wine and some potato chips.
So why are people mad at Eisenberg’s piece? He not only wrote this in the satirical section of the magazine, but there are folks like this – while not quite the caricatures he describes – that actually exist! There are even whole articles dedicated to making fun of them: individuals, as Eisenberg suggests, who “always wanted to have [their] name on a movie poster”.
Perhaps the negative reaction to Eisenberg’s piece is not because the actor had an overly jaundiced view of the state of criticism, but because his piece hit too close to home. It’s not easy to be a full-time writer in 2015, and far too often the people who are good at it get drowned out by the folks who aren’t.
When your profession’s weaknesses are exposed the tendency is to fight the enemies off like a momma bear. The mood his piece has stirred up is symptomatic of the general disquiet in Hollywood among critics and actors (and directors and writers) about the way film criticism is changing – and it certainly is, for better or worse. It would be easy to make the case that they don’t make critics like they used to, but I would argue that they do still make them like that – they’re just harder to find. The talent pool has been watered down.
Eisenberg took the chance to explain the inspiration behind the piece in an interview with the Chicago Tribune: “Good critics are not bringing their own personal gripes,” he said, discussing a review of a Woody Allen movie he disliked. “I realised the guy wasn’t criticising the movie, he was criticising his own lack of productivity and busyness vis-à-vis Woody Allen’s productivity. So that’s why I had the idea.”
When critics have the type of reaction they had to Eisenberg’s, it kind of feels like they’re proving his point.
